Brothers
by sour gummies
Summary: There's a gun pointed against his head. Two years ago, Espio would have run. —Espio, Vector, Charmy, Fang. Pre-Sonic Heroes.


"Don't worry, Espio, this is _destiny_," Vector had used to say, back when they first started the detective agency. Sometimes he'd accompany the words with a 'friendly' slap on the back forceful enough to leave a croc-sized handprint. "We all found that island together back then for a reason, I'd say, so why not do something about it? Pity about Mighty and Knuckles, sure, but three of us – we're gonna go places!"

Then he'd grin that big crocodile grin, so winningly that there could be no argument. "You'll see. This was how it was meant to happen," he'd say with a wink.

Some days, it was easier to believe than others.

—

The alley was filthy, with grime plastered in layers over the bricks and abandoned doorways, visible even at night. There was garbage everywhere, spilling over from the bins and cluttering the ground, and the whole area reeked of rot and decay.

That was the least of their worries.

The bounty hunter, a purple-furred weasel with one overlarge canine jutting out from beneath his upper lip, held a gleaming silver Magnum in each gloved hand. The first gun was pointed directly at Espio's forehead. The second was on Vector's.

"Just lower your weapons," Espio said, carefully. Years of strict training and rigorous discipline allowed him to speak evenly under the worst of circumstances, but beneath his calm poker face, he was chilled to his bones. After two decently successful years in the detective business, it seemed the Chaotix had gotten in over their heads at last.

The bounty hunter grinned cheekily at him, not lowering either Magnum one inch. He looked to be about Vector's age, maybe even younger, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. "I don't know, kid. Seems you guys were messing around with some business _where you didn't belong_."

"Let him go!" said Vector suddenly, desperation clear in his voice. Espio cursed inwardly, turning his head the slightest fraction of an inch to try and give the crocodile a warning look. Vector wasn't paying attention.

"It's me you want," the crocodile said urgently. "I'm the detective. This was _my_ case – the kid just got dragged into it."

Espio looked at him incredulously, still keeping one eye on the gun hovering in front of his face. He didn't know who Vector was trying to fool – after all, at fourteen, Espio was hardly a kid, and _he'd_ been the detective first, years before the crocodile had ever stumbled across his path.

The bounty hunter barked a harsh laugh, although he didn't close his eyes at all. "Nice try, big guy," he said. "But no, I don't think so. A detective's a detective. And you guys sure didn't pick a good case to mess around with, now. Did you."

It wasn't phrased as a question. It wasn't meant to be.

"So, here's how it's going to go," the bounty hunter continued, glancing back and forth between them with a smile that could freeze the water in a lake. "You two are going to tell me _everything_: who sent you, where they live, what the case was about. All that good stuff. And then – if you're good – _maybe_ I'll be generous and let one of you live, just so that you can give your client the heads-up that they're about to become my newest wall trophy."

Two years ago, Espio wouldn't have hesitated. He'd have waited for the bounty hunter to glance away, even just for half a second, and then he'd have turned himself invisible. He'd have jumped to the nearest wall and climbed like a chameleon possessed, scaling the side of the building in no time flat, and he'd have left Vector to his fate. Two years ago, he wouldn't have worried about anyone but himself, having neither friends nor family to make that sort of empathy routine.

But that was then. That was then, and this was _now_, and now was a time when Vector was more than a business partner, more than someone who kept a roof over Espio's head at night. Espio could save himself, but that would also mean he could never show his face to the crocodile again – let alone the sleeping three-year-old waiting for both of them back at the office.

("Figured this case might be a bit dangerous for him to come along," Vector had said with a wink, tucking the snoozing bee under the blankets with a fond stare. "No big deal, right? We'll be back before he even wakes up.")

"Don't do this," Espio told the bounty hunter calmly, his heart pounding in his throat. The weasel turned to stare at him with one eyebrow quirked.

"I guess _you_ want to be the one to die tonight, huh?" he asked cheerfully, with only the same fanged grin.

"_No!_" shouted Vector, jerking involuntarily forward, but the weasel silenced him by pressing the gun in his right hand closer to Espio's forehead.

"_Yes_," the bounty hunter said simply, laughing at the crocodile's petrified face.

And then suddenly there was a piercing, furious shriek echoing down the alley from above them:

"YOU BAD MAN! GET _AWAY_ FROM THEM!"

The bounty hunter jerked his head upward to see where the sound was coming from, but he was already too late: a fraction of a second later, fifteen pounds of tiny, angry bee rammed directly into his right shoulder, stinger first.

"Leave Vector and Espio ALONE!" Charmy shouted.

Swearing, the bounty hunter stumbled back, one of his guns clattering to the ground as a painful-looking bee sting tore deep into the tendons of his shoulder. Espio started forward, but the weasel had already retaliated – he lifted his uninjured arm over his head, snarling, and slammed his second gun across Charmy's head with a sickening _crack_. The bee screamed in pain and dropped like a stone.

_No no no nononoononono_**_no_**

As though from far away, Espio registered Vector crying out in horror, but the chameleon's senses had suddenly separated completely from his body. He was leaping forward without any conscious thought, already tearing a shuriken out of his wrist gauntlets, and as the bounty hunter recovered his footing and aimed the gun in his hand down at the bee on the ground, Espio hurled the weapon as hard as he could.

A scream of agony split the night, the second gun falling harmlessly to the ground.

"Next time, it'll be your throat," Espio growled, as the bounty hunter staggered back, clutching his bleeding arm in agony.

For a moment, the weasel seemed to be in too much pain to speak. "_I'll remember this_," he finally hissed, eyes narrowed to slits. Without another word, he turned tail and ran straight out of the alley.

Two years ago, Espio would have followed him. Instead, he walked over to where Vector was now kneeling on the ground, huddled over the limp toddler he'd pulled into his lap.

"Charmy," the crocodile said anxiously. Espio had never seen him so pale, not even fighting for his life in Newtrogic High Zone. "Charmy, kid, can you hear me? Wake up."

There was a moment of terrible stillness, but then Charmy squirmed a bit in Vector's hold, eyes fluttering open. "Owie…" he muttered, dazed.

The two reptiles hovering over him let out a joint sigh of relief, and then Espio helped Vector clamber to his feet, still carrying Charmy. "Let's go home, boys," the crocodile said tiredly, and Espio nodded silently, falling into step beside him.

They'd barely made it out of the alley before Charmy seemed to recover himself a bit, wriggling out of Vector's arms and hovering in front of the two of them with a sudden glare. They didn't even have time to ask before he started yelling.

"Don't ever do that again!" he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at each of them in turn. The bee's voice, though loud as ever, was thin and unnaturally high – even for him. "Don't _ever_ go off to do detective stuff and leave me behind like that! You guys need me!"

Espio and Vector glanced briefly at one another, and then Vector spoke up. "It was too dangerous, Charmy," he said firmly, still clearly shaken at the close call despite his best efforts to hide it. "And while we're at it, you shouldn't have come looking for us either, you idiot! You could have gotten killed!"

Charmy shook his head vehemently, thrashing his tiny fists in the air. He looked to be on the verge of a full-on tantrum. "No! No! No!" he shrieked, zooming forward to beat uselessly against Vector's broad chest. He looked pitiful, bruised face already swelling from where the weasel had hit him. "You can't leave me! I'm a Chaotix, too!"

Espio swallowed, finding the action suddenly difficult thanks to a newly formed lump in his throat. He glanced to Vector to gauge his response, and was surprised to see the crocodile's eyes had filled with tears.

"…You know, you're right, Charmy," Vector managed after a moment, voice tight. "You're a Chaotix, too. One of us. We won't go off on any cases without you from now on, okay?"

Charmy mumbled an assent, not protesting when Vector pulled him into his arms again.

The crocodile looked over at Espio, smiling weakly. "Back to the office, eh?"

"Roger that," Espio said with a cursory nod, thinking to himself, _back home_.

* * *

><p>an: Once again, first time writing for this category, any constructive criticism would be appreciated, etc.


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